


Recuperation

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Ficlet, Slytherin, The Quidditch Pitch: Slytherin Common Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-28
Updated: 2007-06-28
Packaged: 2018-10-27 10:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10807497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Lucius is released from Azkaban into Severus's keeping.





	Recuperation

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Written for Tinamuggi at Ldybastet's request, using the prompt 'recuperation'.  


* * *

“You won’t be disturbed here, so long as you choose to remain,” Severus says, showing Lucius around the cramped flat, made smaller by the rows of books lining every available inch of wall space. “If you have need for anything, simply ask and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Perhaps a bath, and then something to eat,” Lucius answers. He tries not to sound overly eager at the prospect of either; he has his pride, though all else is gone. Severus merely nods and points the way.

He fills the tub with water as hot as he can stand, scrubbing with soap and flannel until pale skin glows pink and the water itself is tinged with grey. Emptying it, he refills it with more hot water and settles in for a leisurely soak. There isn’t much else to do, so soon. He has all the world and time.

Severus has set out clean clothes for him. The robes are plain linen, but feel like silk against his skin after the scratchy roughspun wool he’d been forced to wear for so long. He rubs the material between his fingers, glorying in its relative softness and comfort.

The meal Severus prepares is also simple, plain roast chicken with vegetables. It’s the best Lucius has had in recent memory, at least, what memory remained before the Dementors left to join their new master. He eats more than would ordinarily be deemed proper, even asks for seconds. The various flavours burst on his tongue with an intensity the tasteless porridge given him once a day never provided.

Lucius finds he cannot sleep during this first night of freedom, however, despite his fatigue. Perhaps it is the feeling of clean hair spread out across a clean pillow, perhaps the feeling of having a pillow, or even a proper bed, after so long without either. Perhaps it is the cocooning warmth of blankets when before there had been only cold. Perhaps it is that he retired too early on a too-full belly that had grown accustomed to the gnawing ache of never enough.

Azkaban does that to people. After awhile, even the simplest of luxuries overwhelm.

He turns to look as a shadow falls across the bed from the open door. “I can prepare a sleeping draught if you wish. It will be no trouble,” Severus says softly, holding up a long-fingered hand when Lucius opens his mouth to protest.

“I’m disturbing your own rest. Forgive me. I realise you’re a solitary man even in the best of times.”

“If you were disturbing me, I’d most certainly let you know,” he replies, stepping further into the room. “I don’t require much sleep, Lucius, you know this. Perhaps we could talk until you feel ready to sleep.”

Severus is all sharp angles and dark hollows in the muted candleglow as he sinks down onto the bed, one hand coming to rest on Lucius’s chest. He looks up at eyes made inscrutable by shadows. This, _this_ is what he has craved most all along, the warm touch of a human hand and all it promises.

“I don’t feel like talking at the moment,” he replies, and Severus gives him one of his rare smiles just before bending to brush his mouth with equally warm lips.

“I didn’t think so.”

For the first time since leaving Azkaban, Lucius thinks that perhaps, just perhaps, he still has a place in the world.


End file.
